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theun4givables's awesome universe, The Tomorrow Trilogy. Warnings for language, anger issues, and If you're reading this fic for the first time, here are the previous chapters so you can catch up:
1 | 2
I totally don't realize how hard I'm scrubbing my arm until it starts to feel kinda raw.
Better raw than dirty. Why do I feel so fucking dirty? As if I even need to fucking ask myself that question. Not when the sensation of those fingertips trailing over my skin's still etched into my memory. When I can almost still feel the heat of his breath against my fucking neck. It's all I can do to force myself to pull the washcloth away. Lean back against the shower wall and try to get my breathing under control. Inhale the steam from the scalding hot water as I try to get my head under control, too.
The things Mitchel said? They had to be fucking lies. Jazz cheating, especially with him? Utterly fucking impossible.
And the way Mitchel was touching me? I must have imagined it. Except I'm definitely not imagining the way I'm stroking myself right now. Fucking Christ, why am I hard? And hard's a fucking understatement, really. Totally feels like my cock might explode any minute. Gonna have to take care of that before I can get anything under control.
It's not until I'm done that it hits me. Mitchel was fucking turned on, too. I grabbed him - all but threatened him - and he moaned. Definitely moaned. Couldn't keep his way-too-perfectly manicured hands off me.
Fucking Christ. Did I really just fucking think that?
My husband's gone, probably for good. I've got an Empire to run all alone. Alone except for a Council that thinks I'm an abusive asshole. And what am I doing right now? Jerking myself off. Thinking about how flawless Mitchel's fucking hands are. Seriously? I totally need to focus - gotta get myself together.
Gotta fucking think about something else - anything else. Anything besides those hands and what they could do to me. How much smoother they'd feel than my own, wrapped around my length -
Wait, that's it. That's fucking it. Not the part about Mitchel's hands, but the thought before that. What he can do to me. Today in that Council Meeting, he totally could've outed me. Should've outed me, really. Bastard's been trying to undermine my authority since who the fuck even knows when. It would've been utterly effortless for him to implicate me in Jazz's disappearance - to tell the Council I was lying about when I last saw Jazz.
So why the fuck didn't he?
As the Council members slowly make their way out of the Council Room, I feel strangely proud of myself. Informing the media of Jazz's disappearance was utterly crushing - even harder than I expected it'd be. But I kept it together, at least on the outside. Kept my hands still and my voice steady, even though my stomach was totally doing flips the entire time. Even managed to get my tie fucking straight beforehand - no one ever needs to know how long I spent in front of my mirror to make that happen.
The debriefing in the Council Room afterward? That went way more smoothly than I'd anticipated. Much easier than it rightfully should have gone. The Council members didn't ask any tough questions - not surprising since they've heard all my answers before. But even Mitchel didn't make a single innuendo, and that? It can't be a sign of anything good.
And the fact that he's still here now that everyone else is gone? Totally confirms my suspicions.
"I don't care what the press says about you, Emperor Bates." Mitchel's voice is smooth as satin as he slips out of his suit jacket, carefully draping it over the back of Jazz's empty seat. He slides all too casually into the chair, moving it so it's practically touching mine. "I, for one, think you're an excellent public speaker."
"Excuse me?" It's hard to get the words out, the way my jaw suddenly clenches. I straighten the papers in front of me, the notes I used for my carefully-practiced speech. It takes all of my fucking effort to keep my hands from shaking as I do it.
That illusion of control I was so proud of a minute ago? Utterly gone. I can't decide what's worse, the way Mitchel's mocking me or the fact that the chair he's sitting in totally isn't Jazz's anymore. And neither fucking one of those thoughts is gonna help me get a hold of myself. Not sure anything will - not when just looking at Mitchel's smug fucking face makes my breathing this uneven. Not when even the sound of his silky fucking voice makes my heart pound this hard.
"You were very... poised during your speech on the Palace steps." Mitchel's expression is downright conciliatory as he leans in close, lays his hands gently over mine. As if we're fucking friends.
It's all I can do to remind myself we're not. All I can do to keep my hands steady beneath his. Shouldn't be difficult - bastard's been my rival since practically the moment I met him. Except it's hard to focus on anything right now, because I'm too busy staring at those perfect fucking hands.
"A little too poised, if you ask me." Mitchel's condescending voice snaps me out of my daze, and I jerk my hands away, folding them on the table in front of me. Now, this? This is the Mitchel I know and fucking hate.
"What the fuck are you getting at, Mitchel?" I snarl.
"Let's not beat around the bush, Savin." Mitchel pushes his chair closer to mine, rests a hand lightly on my back. The heat of his breath against my ear sends shivers down my spine. "I'm quite certain you already know what I'm implying. Surely a man so renowned for his brilliance is capable of reading between the lines. However, if you insist, I'll spell it out for you. It seems to me that a man who's recently lost his husband ought to be a little more, shall we say, distraught."
Fucking Christ. My breathing's so ragged now, there's not a chance in hell I'm gonna get it under control, and my heart's pounding so hard I think it might explode. And the worst fucking part? That's not the only thing that feels like it's gonna blow. Why the fuck are my pants so fucking tight all of a sudden?
I scoot my chair away from Mitchel, force myself to breathe in deeply. Swallow hard and hope I can trust my voice. "My personal emotions aren't the fucking issue here." I don't sound too convincing, not with my words so shrill I might as well be hitting puberty a second time. Clear my throat and try again. "Assuring the public that the Empire's leadership is still stable - that our people are still safe - that's all that matters at the moment. Anything else is irrelevant."
And of course, the Empire's leadership is totally still stable. That's why I'm sitting here in the Council Room, sporting a raging boner as I argue with a member of my own Council - a man who'd gladly see me dethroned. Definitely an excellent fucking example of stable leadership if I've ever seen one.
"Is that so?" Mitchel eyes me coldly, but at least he's not touching me now.
Wait a minute. Am I imagining things, or is he staring at my crotch? Bastard knows, doesn't he? The self-satisfied smile that makes its way across his thin lips is all the answer I need. He knows, all right. He totally fucking knows. Wonderful.
Mitchel coughs, raises his eyes to meet mine. And that should be a relief. Except the predatory way he runs his tongue over his lips? Totally not helping with my little... situation. Not there's anything little about it - and fucking Christ, that's the last thing I need to be thinking about right now. Maybe I should try to discreetly fold my hands in my lap? No, wait. That's only gonna attract even more attention to my "problem area", isn't it?
Why am I still so focused on his fucking lips? Imagining how they'd feel sliding down my -
"You and I both know you lied to the Council and the media." Mitchel's tone is utterly icy - it freezes my blood and practically stops my heart. "You were the last person to see Jazz before he disappeared, and I witnessed just how enraged you were at the time. I wonder, Savin - what exactly took place after I left you two alone? Perhaps it's not only the people's safety that's a cause for concern."
Mitchel's right - I know exactly what he's fucking implying. Bastard's trying to say I hurt Jazz, maybe even killed him. It's hard to be mad about that - I did hurt Jazz, and I've been expecting this accusation since he took off. Now that it's happening, though? Something's bothering me about it. Except I can't put my finger on what. The ache between my legs totally isn't helping me get my head straight, either - not the big one or the little one.
"Thought we weren't gonna beat around the fucking bush, you bastard." Now it's me who's getting too close, brushing my lips against Mitchel's ear and keeping my voice low. "You're right, Mitchel. I killed my own fucking husband. Happy now?"
"Hm, that's too bad." Mitchel strokes his chin thoughtfully, his fingertips ghosting over my shoulder on their way up. "I was hoping I'd get another chance to enjoy your husband's... company sometime."
The way my whole body shivers at Mitchel's touch? It's utterly impossible to think. Except then my lust-addled brain finally registers his words, and before I know what's happening, I'm gripping Mitchel's upper arms. Forcing him to his feet so roughly his chair tips backward and falls to the floor with a crash. Another fucking chance?
"What's the matter, Savin? What did you expect, after what you did to Jazz? He was looking for comfort, and I provided it. If you really loved him as much as you claim to, I'd think you'd be pleased he found support in his time of need."
Am I imagining things, or is Mitchel a little out of breath? Sure as hell know I am.
"No fucking way." He didn't. Mitchel did not just say he slept with my husband - ex-husband. My nails dig into Mitchel's arms, hard enough that he breathes in sharply - even moans slightly, deep in his throat. And that? It only makes me wonder what other sounds I can get him to make. Bastard clearly likes being hurt, and I'd totally love to hurt him. And why am I even fucking thinking about this right now? "I told you before - Jazz'd never fuck you."
"Oh, but that's - where you're wrong." Mitchel's definitely panting. "And I can prove it."
Can you now, asshole? We'll just fucking see about that.
"To begin with, Jazz has quite a few... identifying marks on his body. Scars." Mitchel's gaze is level, his shoulders relaxed. He's already recovered his composure, even though I'm gripping his arms far too tightly. Probably still hurting him. Oh, yes. Bet he can take a lot of fucking pain. Snap out of it, Savin. Stop thinking with your cock and pay attention.
"Who doesn't know Jazz has fucking scars?" I spit. "He spent years on the run. Was attacked by the Resistance. And according to you, attacked by his own fucking husband - "
"Ex-husband." Even now, Mitchel seems utterly in his element. That fucking smirk - how I ache to slap it off his face. And that's not all that's aching right now. Not even fucking close.
"Are you trying to make me fucking hurt you?" Because it's damn well about to fucking work, if he is. I'd be drawing blood by now if Mitchel didn't still have his shirt on. Oh, how I wish he didn't. It's all I can do not to rip it off. "Gonna have to provide better proof than that. Something that isn't fucking common knowledge."
"Oh, Savin, you do drive a hard bargain, don't you?" Mitchel lets his eyes drift downward, smirks at the bulge in my pants.
Mock me all you want, you fucking bastard. Those beads of sweat breaking out on your forehead? They're all the evidence I need. Still don't think you fucked Jazz, but I know you want to fuck me. Or be fucked by me.
And you know what? You might just get your wish - especially since I'd have to take you dry.
(Next chapter is here)
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no subject
Date: 2013-01-16 01:11 pm (UTC)This still is pretty hot though, haha.
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Date: 2013-01-16 01:18 pm (UTC)She's following my canon (for the most part -- this definitely didn't fucking happen even though I kinda wish it did), so no happy endings for realsies. ;)
And yes it isssss
no subject
Date: 2013-01-16 01:29 pm (UTC)I need to go read it seriously.
no subject
Date: 2013-01-16 01:51 pm (UTC)I would start with Seize the Day, if you did. Gray Morning (the book this fic is based on) is going to end up being reworked -- once I finish Seize the Day and Surrender the Night. Not making the mistake of writing out of order (when it comes to books) again. xD
no subject
Date: 2013-01-20 02:22 pm (UTC)Thanks. I'm glad you found it hot. Hope it will stay that way.
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Date: 2013-01-16 01:19 pm (UTC)Every little action does is just omg I love this I can't. xD And next chapterrrr I neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeed it. Savin needs it. Mitchel wants it. lololol
Upon rereading I have the tiniest of nitpicks: "Gonna have to provide better proof than that. Something that isn't fucking common knowledge." (Seriously, I said it was the tiniest of nitpicks)
no subject
Date: 2013-01-20 02:21 pm (UTC)Poor Savin.
By the next chapter, that show may have to stop for a while. Well, for at least a minute or two. I know Savin thinks he can last at least five. We'll seeeeeeeee.
no subject
Date: 2013-01-16 02:14 pm (UTC)Oh Savin, you can't think with your brain anymore, can you? ;)
no subject
Date: 2013-01-20 02:20 pm (UTC)Also, thank you. I'm not sure I can manage a first-person fic like this either, but that's where being insane comes in super handy.